


Markers on Glass

by IchiBri



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Homesickness, M/M, canonverse, coloring shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 23:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10729695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IchiBri/pseuds/IchiBri
Summary: Shiro wanders the castle when he can't sleep, and somehow, he always ends up at the bridge to look out upon the stars.  Keith finds him and suggests playing connect the dots.





	Markers on Glass

Nights were endless in the vast expanse of space, and often Shiro found them to be sleepless as well.  But even on Earth, Shiro doubted he’d fare any better.  Wherever he lay his head at night, he couldn’t escape the memories of the gladiator arena, of the lengths he fell to survive.  When the flashbacks became too much – when they vividly played behind his eyelids – he searched for solace.

Most nights, he roamed the Castle of Lions with no specific destination in mind.  Sometimes he’d drop by the kitchen for a midnight snack or slip into the training deck for some sparring against a bot.  But somehow, Shiro always ended up at the bridge.

Tonight was no exception.  He supposed it was the view which drew him.  As he stood and stared through the transparent panes, his mind cleared of all thoughts.  When looking out upon star clusters, it was easy to see how insignificant one’s problems truly were.  To others, it might’ve made their existence feel trivial; but to Shiro, it was the smallest of comforts he held on to.

He was reminded of being a kid again, of sitting on the grass in the backyard and staring up at the constellations dotting the night sky.  He’d reach out his hand, extend his fingers as far as he could, and dream of touching every star in the galaxy.  Little did he know, there were hundreds of millions staring down at him.  His younger self probably would’ve scoffed at the number, boasting how he’d collect every last one and hold them in his hands.

Shiro smiled at the thought as he touched the glass.  If only his younger self could look out upon every galaxy Shiro has, every star Shiro’s seen.  If he was impressed by the mere millions, he’d gape in awe at the billions of trillions in galaxies he could only dream of.

That innocence of youth, where had it gone?  Shiro’s heart ached in his chest, its pang reverberating and spreading like a ripple in the ocean.  His fingers trailed down the cold glass until his hand fell limply to his side.

At eight years old, the world didn’t seem so big when he stared at the stars.  Even at twelve, when he admired pictures of space in every book he could get his hands on, he dreamed of exploring its frontier.  By the time he was in his mid-teens, Shiro believed the universe was his toy box, that in a handful of years he’d be walking upon the surface of every planet in the milky way.

The Kerberos mission was his dream come true.  At the time, the child dwelling within him wanted to jump and shout and scream his joy to the stars, but he held back.  After all, Shiro had a dignified imagine to uphold in front of the commander; but in the privacy of his own quarters, he raised his fists to the air in triumph and nearly wept from the onslaught of euphoria.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember the warmth with blanketed him, spreading outward from his chest and clinging to him like static.  Kerberos may have only been a moon, but it was the farthest humans had traveled.  To others, the mission was an endgame.  All the hard work and resources would finally bring about a historic event for space exploration.  But to Shiro, it was only the beginning.

He wanted to go farther, to travel beyond their galaxy into worlds unknown.  He wanted to map every star and asteroid and nebula, leaving no corner of the universe unexplored.

But now, as he stared into the unending darkness, Shiro knew how unfeasible that task would be for a single generation to accomplish, let alone one man.  It was a foolhardy dream, and he had awoken from it.

Where once Kerberos seemed too close to home, now Shiro wished he could go back.  He’d give anything to return to that moon and know Earth was within reach.  A part of him berated himself for the selfishness of the thought – what with the fate of the universe at stake – but could anyone really blame him?

Shiro would fight.  He’d continue till either Zarkon was defeated or he breathed his last breath.  The fate of the world, of the countless lives depending on the fall of Zarkon’s reign, would always outweigh his own personal desires.

During the light of day, he could accept that.  Attacks from the galra and team-building drills kept his mind too preoccupied to dwell on what he’s left behind, on what he’s sacrificed.  But the quietness of night brought with it thoughts and memories he’d rather not face.

Which brought him back to the stars.  He didn’t know how far from home they truly were.  Coran could probably tell him, but Shiro wasn’t prepared to answer Coran’s questions of Earth which would surely accompany any response he gave.  So, Shiro settled for staring out into the expanse of space and pretending Earth was just beyond the horizon.  If he stayed up late enough, fought off sleep long enough, sometimes his blurred vision and exhausted brain conjured up the oceans and continents of his home planet.

And sometimes, illusions just had to be enough.

“Shiro?”

His head turned at the soft call of his name.  “Keith?  What are you doing up so late?”

Keith arched a brow, “The same could be asked of you.”

When Shiro said nothing, Keith crossed the room to stand at his side.  Shoulder to shoulder, they stared at the dots and specks of the stars.  Their silence was almost amiable, but it couldn’t last.

“Did you need something?” Shiro quietly inquired.

“No.”

Shiro’s eyes flicked to Keith’s face, but the other gave nothing away.  Arms crossed over his chest, Keith looked straight ahead.  “Then why–”

The firm set of Keith’s lips softened, and his eyes upturned to Shiro.  They met for the briefest of moments before Keith returned his gaze to the stars.  “Coran sees everything.”

Shiro snorted at how godly that made Coran seem – as if Coran was an all-seeing eye in the sky, an all-hearing ear in the vents.  But he sobered with a quiet gasp of air when the meaning to Keith’s words sunk in.

“Plus, the mice,” Keith tossed a look over his shoulder.

Shiro’s eyes followed to spot a little mouse butt disappearing into a crystal console.  His shoulders rose and fell with the deep sigh he exhaled.  Gossiping little critters, of course they tattled on him to Allura.

“Want to talk about it?” Keith’s voice was so soft, so quiet, his words were a mere murmur to Shiro’s ears.

“Not really.”

Keith hummed at that, but he came prepared.  Reaching behind himself, he pulled a pair of small lightly glowing sticks from the waistband of his pants.  “Connect the dots, then?”

Shiro wanted to laugh as Keith offered him the glowing rods.  “Are those things safe?”

Keith shrugged “Coran says so.  And they’re the closest thing to markers we’ve got.”

Shiro eyed the markers for a moment longer, not quite sure if he should trust their unnatural glow.  But when Keith impatiently shook them, Shiro picked the brightly-colored red one.  He rolled the marker between his fingers, and the color stained his skin.  As Keith stepped closer to the glass, Shiro’s eyes ventured lower.  A puff of amusement breezed past his lips at the glowing green and red streaks marking the bottom of Keith’s shirt.

Either Keith was oblivious to the stains or he paid them no mind.  He pressed marker to pane and connected stars together with a flourish of his wrist.  The glow left behind contrasted starkly against the darkness of space, and its color reminded Shiro of the disaster which was food goo.

But even more than food goo, Shiro was reminded of every time he and Keith lay together to watch the stars.  From when they were brats staying up past their bedtime to Garrison cadets sneaking out after curfew.  Whether it was lying on the hood of his car or on the ground outside their desert shack, neither of them cared as long as they could point out constellations and wish upon shooting stars.

“Shiro?” Keith peered over his shoulder with a worried pout of his lips.

If Shiro stared a moment too long, Keith didn’t mention it.

Shiro shook the memories from his head and stepped to join Keith at the glass.  Swipes and swirls left glowing ink in their place to create constellations that didn’t exist outside of this moment, outside of their own little slice of the world.  Squiggled lines and zigzags marked the glass, and soon the soft glow reflected off each of their faces.  They reached into the other’s space, worked with and around each other, until their hands and arms were stained with each other’s color.

As Shiro’s pen drew closer to a hidden patch of glass, Keith pointed his marker at Shiro to dot a splotch of green against his cheek.  “Don’t even think about it,” Keith warned as he guarded the glass.

With a mischievous glint, Shiro’s eyes narrowed, but he pulled back.  For now, at least.

He gave Keith space and drew swirls and poorly rendered outlines of birds, lopsided trees and mutated cats.  But his gaze flicked to Keith between every stroke of his marker.  Leaning his side against the glass, Keith blocked Shiro’s line of sight.  And with Keith standing next to him, the stars could only hold Shiro’s attention for so long.

Silently, Shiro inched closer, dragging a trail of red upon the glass as he went.  He stopped a hairsbreadth from Keith’s back.  He could so easily peek over Keith’s shoulder; but with other’s level of dedication and concentration to his work, Shiro thought it rude to sneak a glimpse.

Instead, Shiro mirrored Keith’s pose and leaned his weight against the glass.  With a purse of his lips, he lightly blew air upon the nape of Keith’s neck, marveling at the shiver which ensued.  With the fine hairs standing on end, Keith absentmindedly brushed a hand over his neck.  Shiro’s curiosity perked further at the streaks of color left by the other’s fingertips.

Smudges of purple and blue, green and yellow, marked Keith’s skin.  With an arched brow, Shiro’s eyes lowered back to Keith’s waistband, but still only green and red stained his shirt.  It wasn’t until Keith reached for his pouch that Shiro caught sight of the glowing sticks within it.

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith tipped his head to the side as he held back his hand.  “Can I borrow the red?”

Shiro hummed as he placed the marker in Keith’s stained palm, watching Keith’s fingers close around the glow.  If he shut his eyes, Shiro could hear the strokes upon glass – the almost squeaky ring to each motion of Keith’s wrist.  Even softer, Shiro heard Keith’s quiet breaths – rhythmic and effortless.  It would be so easy to sync his to Keith’s and drift off to sleep; but for once, it wasn’t the fear of the past which kept him awake.

“Shiro.”

Blinking his eyes open, Keith stared back him.  He straightened and pushed off the glass before catching a glimpse of color over Keith’s shoulder.

Keith stepped to the side as his gaze flicked hesitantly between Shiro and the drawings.

Staring at the colors, the shapes took only a moment to click into clarity within Shiro’s mind before his hand reached out to them.  Fingers feathering over the glass, he didn’t dare touch the simplistic outlines of the paladins’ heads for fear of smudging their smiles.  With himself centered in the middle, the word _FAMILY_ arched below them – its letters a little shaky as they followed the path of the stars.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice cracked on his name.

Keith stepped to stand in front of Shiro and slipped his arms around Shiro’s waist.  “We’re all homesick, Shiro.”

Shiro dropped his forehead to Keith’s shoulder as he sucked in an unsteady breath.  He felt Keith’s hand rub up his back until it settled between his shoulder blades.

Lips pressed against Shiro’s temple.  “Remember what you told me before Kerberos?”

“Forever and always?” he murmured.

Keith’s puff of breath warmed Shiro’s cheek.  “That too, but no.  You said, _I’ll be home before you know it._ ”

Keith gently tapped Shiro’s cheek – leaving dots of glowing color upon his skin – until Shiro turned his head.  When their eyes met, Keith’s shined with unwavering conviction.  “We’ll make it back home.  We all will.”

Memories of their desert shack and nights staring up at the stars flooded Shiro’s mind.  He closed his eyes and nodded.  They’d be home before they knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me @ichibri on tumblr and twitter


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